Although this stands alone as a GM espionage story, it also is a sequel to "Last Call"; This is a completed, four-chapter novella and will finish posting by 25 August 2017. ***** "The flat above the garage is just about ready, if you want to move in there, Mr. Clarke." I looked up at the back corner of the old Turkish-style compound on the street above th...
"It was good of you to come." "I was surprised that your father wanted me here." I was sitting in the courtyard of a restored traditional Turkish home on Efeler Street, three blocks up the hill from the old walled harbor of Kyrenia, in Turkish-held Cyprus. Zeki Ceren, the son of Serhan, was looking a bit uncomfortable but also quite handsome. There was quit...
He was laid to rest in the crowded little graveyard adjacent to the small Anglican church on the fringes of the Kyrenia Harbor in Cyprus. My mother had shown no interest in interring him in the States—or even in attending the burial ceremonial in Cyprus. But I thought that, in any event, this was a fitting place for him to be buried. This was where he belong...
Although right to be proud, Tony wasn't a champion in either the length or girth department, so I managed to go down on him to the hilt and rise to the rim of his bulb and go down on him again in rapid succession in a reverse cowboy, which he seemed to appreciate a lot. My revolve move had him moaning. He was flat on his back on his bed in his balcony cabin,...
I needed to get away from Avis. I normally hadn't gone with her on her buying sprees for the boutique gift shop we owned and she ran in the well-heeled Buckhead suburb of Atlanta. I tried to keep busy managing the tennis program at Georgia Tech. I'd been a top twenty professional once and still played doubles in tournaments when I could get a partner willing...
Our team looked great that first day of rowing practice. All eight of these studly guys rowed in perfect harmony as I barked orders with my bullhorn in the coxswain's seat. We rowed for four hours, took a break for lunch to discuss strategies, and then hit the weight room in the afternoon for a couple hours. In the weight room, we split up into groups to li...
Chapter One: Kazan to Novorossiysk As soon as he had seen the truck convoy start to pull into the courtyard of the makeshift main building of the Imperial Military Academy, Pyotr dropped the weights he was working with in the exercise yard and loped down the slope and through the grove of trees that bordered one side of the river park on the rise above Kaza...
One of the saddest—and most ironic—casualties of the internecine Greek-Turkish war on Cyprus that divided the island into warring camps three decades ago was the once-famous and elegant Ledra Palace Hotel. The Treaty Room of the Ledra Palace, a hulking stone edifice in the Moorish style, had been the venue where the British secretly committed the crime of sl...
Harry Bolton had been in Beirut about a year. He was one of the more noticeable gems in the motley collection of expatriates from this or that Western country who centered our lives on the American University of Beirut for a taste of the cultures we otherwise, and for different reasons, were escaping. He was an academic from a rather vague, but obviously wea...
The Orient Express train had left Vienna Station at dusk, and there was no longer anything to see out of the coach window, the lights of the towns flashing by having been extinguished hours ago. Magnus the Authenticator was weary, and the clacking of the iron wheels on the iron rails as the train thundered toward Belgrade lulled him. But the unfamiliar noise...